


His name

by SkyOfDust



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4828787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyOfDust/pseuds/SkyOfDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all about feathers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His name

Fenris' heart hammered in his chest as he stared at the black feathers on the mage's shoulders. He could not even remember the grey ones. How many times did he bury his face in those feathers, snarling when they tickled his forehead but hiding a smile, because he loved the way the apostate cared about so little things. Feathers, kittens and justice. Things no one else cared about. And yet here he was sitting, in the middle of ruins, waiting for his death as Fenris was standing still. How did this start, Fenris couldn't say. It just did. With a few words, with heavy looks, with small smiles and blushed cheeks. Maybe it started with hatred. Did it matter now?

 

_____________

 

"What are you doing?"

"You can't see? I'm sewing! Remember the giant spiders? One of them bit me. I hate spiders" he grumbled.

As Fenris got closer, he saw the hole in the fabric and shrugged, and then his eyes slipped on the mage's body and saw the hole in the skin.

"Why didn't you heal yourself?"

"Venom. Prevents the wound from healing correctly. I'll take care of it later, with poultices."

"Because your coat is so much more important" Fenris replied sarcastically.

However, the elf was hiding a smirk behind his irony. He was looking at the blonde man and tried to understand how it worked. How everything worked. The will to kill every last templar at the Gallows, the desire to help every poor people of Darktown, the dream to free all the mages across the Free Marches and the foolish affection for grey feathers and a shabby coat. His eyes fell to the cup of milk on the floor and, this time, he did not hold back the smirk. The _abomination_ sewed and fed kittens. The mage frowned and sighed when he saw the elf's little smile.

"Are you mocking me again? Because I'm not in the mood to…"

"I know someone who will take care of your coat for free. He does a great job" Fenris added with a vague gesture at his own clothes, daring the mage to find any clue of old holes in the fabric.

Anders did as he was told and stared at the elf's body with a contentment that made the former slave looking away.

 

____________

 

"Kill me now before there is nothing left of me."

Fenris shivered and cleared his throat, ready to give his opinion when Hawke turned to look at them all. Somehow, it felt like a lyrium-branded hand was crushing his heart slowly, painfully. However, his voice was still when he answered.

"He wants do die. Kill him and be done with it."

 

_____________

 

"Are you afraid of me, mage?"

"I am" Anders answered stroking slowly the bare chest presented to him.

His face was blank, his voice determined, as if telling the truth was demanding energy from him. A minute of silence filled the room until the mage left the bed they shared that night, rose up on his feet and dressed up with shaky hands.

"You think people are scared because you can crush their hearts in a second. I am scared because there are a thousand ways to break a heart, and your fisting thing is not the worst one."

 

____________

 

"Help me restore order" Hawke said.

Fenris knew what would be the answer. Maker, would this pain in his heart ever cease? Or would he bear it into his soul forever, just like the lyrium branded into his flesh? Another curse upon him. Another burden he did not have the strength to bear. The mage had taken it away from him… for a while. Heartbreaker.

"Fight with the templars? Against the Circle? No, you can't ask me to do that. I'd rather die."

"Just go" Hawke said.

Fenris couldn't hold back the sigh of relief that escaped his mouth. But the weigh in his chest did not go away. It was even heavier when the mage disappeared, leaving them with a war he started. Sebastian's words were lost in the noise of flames burning all around them, as Fenris stared at a black feather trembling in the wind, lost on the floor, stuck by thick and dark blood. He squatted next to it and carefully took it, before looking at the blood on his hands, happy it was not the mage's. He'd never see him again, and maybe it was for the best.

_____________

 

"I love you."

Fenris shuddered and did not answer immediately. He stared at the mage, looking for some clue telling him he was lying, mocking, or teasing. But there was so much softness and true honesty in amber eyes that Fenris felt terribly scared. The words spilled out from his mouth before he could hold them back.

"Do not bare your heart to me, mage, unless you would see me rip it out."

He waited for the mage's reaction. It was not what he expected, though. The apostate smiled. He just smiled at him like Fenris had returned the words he just spoke. But he did not, did he? The apostate stepped closer and gave the elf a light kiss with soft lips. They did not really show affection: what happened in the bed stayed in the bed. But Fenris' hand grabbed the mage's neck to pull him closer and he closed his eyes when he kissed the apostate with so much passion he would have denied it if was asked. He had no feelings for the foolish mage, for the abomination, for the possessed healer. His heart was as cold as he wanted it to be.

But the mage was not the only one who had no control over himself. They were both haunted, and what happened in the bed after that was far more than the elf could imagine. They stopped visiting each other every night, because they stopped leaving in the morning. They stopped cuddling after sex and began cuddling before. They stopped seduction game and started to talk. Until the day Fenris found himself snarling at Isabela because she said something about the mage's sexual life. All gazes turned to him slowly and the mage burst into laughter. This laughter, it wormed its way to Fenris' heart, hiding in his organs, in his bones, in his soul. So he chuckled as well while the other companions stared at them with widened eyes, probably wondering how they could have even missed something as big as the mage-hating elf and the abomination having a relationship.

 

___________________________

 

Fenris followed Hawke. He always did. He did not give a damn about Meredith, about Kirkwall and about templars, but there was a war that needed to be stopped. There was another magister imperium that needed to be prevented. After that, Fenris had no idea what he would do. A few days ago, it felt like he had a reason to live, something to stand for, other than foolish believes about the Circle of Magi and hatred towards dead magisters.

He readied his sword, knowing he might not survive this fight. And he did not care. But his heart stopped beating when a familiar silhouette walked down the stairs of the Gallows. It fell in his chest when he recognized the blonde hair. There were no black feathers. There was no shabby coat. And there was no blue light. It was the mage standing in front of him, ready to fight his friends. It was the apostate, not the demon. And yet it was not the man he knew.

"And here you come, ready to do the templars' dirty work. Do you expect a reward?" he said with bitterness. "A hug, from the Knight-Commander? Are you that big a fool?"

His voice filled the silence and Fenris' breath caught in his chest. The mage did not spare him a look, staring at Hawke with disgust and sadness, arms crossed on his chest.

"I let you go, Anders" Hawke said in a tired voice. "You shouldn't be here."

"I set the fire. I can't just walk away!"

Maker, that infuriating heartbreaker mage.

"I'm grateful we met. I wish it didn't have to end like this."

But the mage had made it end like this. When the fight began, Fenris' brands lit up blue and he started dancing gracefully on the battlefield, fighting each enemy that stepped in his way with a new ire he knew nothing about. It was no hatred. It was anger fed with love. He did not even think it possible before.

He killed and killed and killed, covered in blood, until his fist buried in a chest and almost crushed the beating heart. Hawke looked at him with widened eyes, wondering why fingers were brushing his internal organs. Fenris was blinded by rage, he needed to kill. It seemed everything started because of Hawke. If he had not followed him… his revenge may be not fulfilled, that his. But at the time it felt like ashes. Because of his unconfessed love to another mage. He would have not met this unnerving infuriating apostate with big speeches about the plight of mages and slavery. He would have not even cared about feathers and blonde hair in the sun. His head was filled with memories and he could not handle it. Bitterness in his words, hatred in his voice. Insults, hurt look in amber eyes. At the time it was harmless, for Fenris had never felt guilt. But now it hurt, Maker, it hurt so much.

Fenris' hand drew away and both men fought their true enemy again. Because it was not Hawke's fault. It was Fenris'. Maybe he started all this, with words on templars and mages. Maybe he started this with hatred, with 'abomination', and 'mage' and 'you're weak'. If he had said the words, maybe the mage would have been stronger.

And then he just froze. His companions were busy and he let go of a terrible laugh. A laugh of despair. Because he remembered now. He had not said it. Not a single time. He never pronounced his name. The mage from the Anderfels' name.

A spell flied in his direction and he raised his sword. Green eyes met amber ones. Fenris never thought he'd miss the blue light in them. He wished it was the demon who just attacked him, and not the man he had held in his arms thousand times. He ran with unnatural speed towards the mage. It took seconds before his hand buried in the chest. A pain look crossed the mage's face, followed by relief. Amber eyes closed as Fenris gently dropped off the lifeless corpse on the floor.

"Sleep well, mage."

 

_____________

 

Suddenly, it was over. Fenris looked at Hawke and nodded as a goodbye. The fight was over, nothing kept him here anymore. He turned on his heels and began to walk away. There was nothing he had to keep from this life, so he just left the Gallows, and Kirkwall, with nothing more than his sword, and a black feather hidden in his pocket, to remind him of what mattered the most, what was important. More than hatred.

Meeting Hawke might have been the most important thing that ever happened to him, after all. Because it led to all this. And even if there was this deep excruciating pain filling his heart, Fenris knew it was worth it all. Because his head was also filled with memories and it did not hurt that much. It was all about him, about Anders' smile, Anders' voice, Anders' kisses, Anders' strokes. Blonde hair, amber eyes, shabby coat, healing spells, kindness, softness, gentleness. All about Anders. And maybe what they lived was enough. Because Fenris had been happy. And beyond sadness there was something new and far more important. Something to hang on, even if it was only memories.

**Author's Note:**

> I remember when I played the game siding the Templars. I romanced Anders (I almost always romance him) and in the end I wanted to kill him (I wanted to make different choices from my first game). And I could not. So I let him go. And then he just stepped down the stairs and I felt my heart racing in my chest and I had no choice but to kill him and I stared at his corpse and I was like "Noooooo, why did you not leave, you fool!"  
> So I just wrote it the way I imagined it would be if Fenders included. Because I like Fenders, you know that. And I like feathers too, sorry about that. 
> 
> Hope you liked it. Feel free to comment, share your feeling and opinions. If there are mistakes, please tell me.  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
